I am a story teller. I’ve been telling stories since I was a child, when I’d wake up in the morning and stress the family out about listening to some crazy dream I’ve had at night. The madness continues even though my morning audience has shrunk.
I’m passionate about African stories and even more passionate about Africans telling African stories. The rich colourful backdrops, filled with vibrating colours, guiding the eye and mind; The full texture of the culture without criticism or comparison to any other and the interesting characters that lie curiously within; The villainy of terrifying evil and the soft gentle fall into the bosom of firm but comforting friend; the worn feet of a traveler along paths that are familiar while cutting new roads through unexplored territory, never knowing what lies ahead. Stories my father (Mugarura) told me. Stories his father (Mutana) told him. Stories Mutana was told by Mutambuka and so on to the Nth generation, pulsing through time to lil’ old me in my dreams.
I do have my idols and my loves who are forming an ever growing list.
- Jane Austen (what?! She could be African!!!)
- Octavia Butler
- Wole Soyinka (especially the trials of Brother Jero)
- Rachel Tumwi (sometimes fiction, most times blog)
I will try to keep a book list of the books I’m reading on a different page. I’m not reading much right now coz I’ve got to concentrate on my novel and this blog, but please come back soon and find out what happens with Chumbusho!